June 2, 2010

• The Girl Next Door

  Before “girl next door” became a porn category all to itself, there was the girl next door.  If she wasn’t next door, then she was down the street.  Like in fifth grade when I would go to Ryan Morvay’s house after school pull back his sister’s junior high bra strap like a sling shot and let it snap on her back while she stood (fully clothed) on her driveway.  How’s that big red mark on your back?  We were evil kids.  We didn’t want to see her boobs, it was just our way of to make fun of her wearing a bra.  “Ryan’s sister wears a bra!”

  When I was a freshman in high school, my other neighbor had a sister that was developing.  She was a senior in high school.  I don’t remember her being very pretty, but I did notice that things juggled under her bra-less shirt.   Then there were the two Eurasian sisters that lived down the street.   I went to my high school 10 year reunion and the younger one who was in my class didn’t even remember that I lived on her street.  She was a toothpick back then.  At the reunion she was still slender but… wow.  Talk about late bloomers.  She was hotter than any of the ex-princesses and dance queens there.  

  Now yesterday I got an email from my next door neighbor cubemate co-worker in my personal email.  All it said was this…

  “LOL!!!  Hahahaha!  Check out who’s on my list!” 

  Scroll down and holy frick…  There I am, in my 95% match glory.  Match.com, causing workplace trouble.  What are the chances?  My next door neighbor cubemate is blonde.  She’s so white that when I bust out the Japanese rice crackers, she said she had never seen those in her life.  “What are they?”  That’s the same thing I said when I looked at her iPod and she said, “Lady Antebellum.”  

  The email is so glaringly funny because there’s 11 white dudes (four of which look like they at one point were in the armed services) then me, the lone Asian guy.   How the heck did I get on her list?  Beats me.  Maybe it’s the equivalent of trying to get her to try a rice cracker.  I went into work and said, “Nice to see who my competition is!”  

  Today’s perverted writing started out with such promised, but it ended with no exposed boobs, no watering of plants in bathing suits, no driveway car washes in slow motion, no jiggly butts walking dogs past my front yard.  But the girl next door?  Shoot, check your email.  It’s twenty ten.  I’m the boy next door. 

  • 11:14 am
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